


– as easy as you

by blackwood (transjon)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Sex Toys, Virginity Kink, Virginity Roleplay, consent checks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjon/pseuds/blackwood
Summary: So the process goes like this:Jon pretends not to get the flirting. He laughs at Tim’s jokes, and he turns to face him on the rickety barstool, and he moves closer to hear him better. He stirs his drink and tells Tim about whatever thing he can think of for long enough to recall the most intimate details of. Tonight it’s smallpox vaccinations. Tim moves closer to him until he’s almost in Jon’s lap, almost without Jon noticing it at all, and then he wraps his arms around Jon’s neck, breath ghosting over Jon’s lips, and Jon, surprised and unsure of what’s happening, squeaks.“Let me take you home?” Tim asks against his mouth. Their lips don’t quite touch.“Okay,” says Jon.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 148
Collections: t4tma week 2021





	– as easy as you

**Author's Note:**

> day 5 of t4tma - consent/negotiation!
> 
> title is from nobody puts baby in the corner by fall out boy!
> 
> the scene negotiation doesnt happen onscreen, but theres references/internal narration referring to it pretty much throughout. the scene includes tim picking jon up at a bar, and theyre pretending to be virtually strangers. drinking what is implied to be alcohol pre scene is mentioned, but honestly i was imagining them having virgin (ha) drinks for the sake of being able to do this safely [altho the hour long gap might be enough to sober up anyway], you can imagine what you want. jons internal narration switches between what his roleplay persona thinks and what he, himself, thinks. theres a consent check where they werent on the same page about whether this is a safeword-stop scene or a verbal-no-stop scene, but its solved and nobody is upset. the nonconsent roleplay includes tim touching jons chest when he """doesnt want him to""" but in actuality jon both doesnt have top dysphoria and also enjoys having his chest touched. this is also the action jon pretends to explicitly say no to. the overall cnc flavor is less violent and more coercive - i know people have different reactions to different types of cnc so i figured id make this distinction. jon, as roleplay, voices concern or alludes to wanting to revoke consent, and tim, again as roleplay, talks him out of it even though jon is unsure or wants to stop.
> 
> words used;  
> \- breasts/chest  
> \- cock/cunt + slit/etc euphemisms

Tim picks him up at the club. 

Jon’s never been one for clubs. Not a fan of the noise, really, or all the people. Sometimes people will drunkenly strike up a conversation with him, and he’s happy enough to engage, although often they don’t stick around for too long. Jon’s fine with that. 

Tim, though, sits next to him, and orders a drink. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks Jon. 

Jon smiles at him. “Sure.”

So the process goes like this: 

Jon pretends not to get the flirting. He laughs at Tim’s jokes, and he turns to face him on the rickety barstool, and he moves closer to hear him better. He stirs his drink and tells Tim about whatever thing he can think of for long enough to recall the most intimate details of. Tonight it’s smallpox vaccinations. Tim moves closer to him until he’s almost in Jon’s lap, almost without Jon noticing it at all, and then he wraps his arms around Jon’s neck, breath ghosting over Jon’s lips, and Jon, surprised and unsure of what’s happening, squeaks. 

“Let me take you home?” Tim asks against his mouth. Their lips don’t quite touch. 

“Okay,” says Jon. “But I’ve never –”

“You’ve never hooked up with someone?” Tim interrupts him. His finger traces a gentle line over the curve of Jon’s lip. The puffs of his breath tickle Jon’s lips. 

Jon bites his lip delicately. “Yes.”

The second part of the revelation is going to happen in an hour or so. Forty five if they can get to Tim’s faster. For now Tim looks at him like he’s hungry for him, and Jon looks back, bashful but eager. Tim closes the distance between them. When he slips his tongue into Jon’s mouth Jon whimpers. 

–

They end up in Tim’s bed. Jon’s still wearing his tie, which had made him look ridiculously overdressed when he’d been sitting at the bar sipping on his drink slowly, but that just makes him look more disheveled when it’s half-undone, his semi-sheer button down undone and his white undershirt wrinkled. 

“You’re so handsome,” Tim says, and then he leans in to kiss Jon before Jon can reply. Jon’s mouth opens easily, pliant and slick, and it takes a little bit of coaxing on Tim’s part to get Jon to use his tongue. The tip of it peeks into Tim’s mouth, all delicate touch and sweet flex of his tongue, and Tim sucks on it, just as delicately. 

It shocks Jon all the same, a little noise coming out of him and traveling all the way to Tim’s mouth. Tim swallows it, hands going into Jon’s hair. Jon turns his head to the side, just a little bit, and Tim follows his mouth with his, but his hand moves down to cup over his jaw, stroke his thumb over his cheek. 

They kiss until Jon gets impatient. Tim pulls away with a hazy, dazed look in his eyes, and smiles down at Jon, who smiles back. His own cheeks are warm. There’s a pleasant thrum of arousal and heat that underlines the pulse of his blood when he touches a hand to the warmth of them. 

“So handsome,” Tim says again, quieter this time. His mouth lands on Jon’s jaw, little kisses pressing into the skin, traveling down over the dip where skin-covered bone turns into the softer, vulnerable flesh of his neck, and Jon, despite himself, whines softly, low in his throat when Tim scrapes his teeth over the jut of his adam’s apple. 

Tim’s taken off his shirt already, although he is still wearing his binder. Jon runs his fingers down his back, nails digging into his back at the sensation of Tim’s lips and tongue on his skin, and Tim hums and smiles at the contact. His hands go to the hem of Jon’s shirt. 

“Wait,” says Jon. “Wait.”

Tim stills, his eyes pools of worry. “Are you okay?” 

This is where the other shoe drops. Jon’s fingers let go of Tim’s wrist. He squirms, a full body thing. Worries his lip between his teeth. “I’ve never,” he pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is low and bashful, “I’m a virgin.”

They’ve done this so many times. Jon’s never going to get sick of the way Tim’s pupils visibly dilate at the words. He looks away to keep up the illusion of embarrassment, and Tim goes “oh, fuck. You didn’t tell me –”

“It’s fine,” Jon scrambles to say, “I swear, I want it, I just –”

“Are you sure?” Tim asks him. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Jon nods, and then once more, as if making up his mind. “It’s okay.”

“Good,” says Tim, “because you’re so unbelievably hot I can’t wait to touch you properly.”

The tips of Jon’s ears go hot. There’s a pleasant buzz in his head. “Oh,” he squeaks. “Really?”

Instead of replying Tim leans in to kiss him again. Jon kisses back, a little bolder this time, and Tim rewards him by crowding his body with his. It takes Jon a few seconds to realize that Tim’s hips are slowly moving against Jon’s belly, angled slightly so that he can get what must be the barest of hints of contact against his cock, even through the layers of fabric separating them. 

“Can I take off your shirt?” Tim asks softly. Jon looks at him for a tense, hesitant second, and then he nods silently, which makes Tim groan softly. 

Jon has to shrug off the button down shirt himself first. He sits up just a little bit, and the loss of contact that comes from Tim moving to accommodate this motion makes him feel so _cold_. The loss of his shirt certainly doesn’t help, and he whines softly when Tim’s calloused fingertips slip under the hem of his undershirt.

“Good?” Tim asks softly. His lips land on Jon’s again, which means Jon can’t really answer, but Tim doesn’t let that stop him. One hand slides underneath the thin fabric of his shirt to pet over the skin of his ribcage, the dip of his waist. Jon whines into the kiss, and Tim pulls away to lift the shirt over Jon’s head gently. 

It’s a little awkward, being undressed like this, but Jon goes along with it obediently, and then he’s sitting there, his upper half entirely bare. He’d opted not to wear his binder tonight – the undershirt was tight enough for some rudimentary compression and the button down was loose enough to hide anything else that might otherwise still be visible – and the cold air pulls his nipples into stiff peaks immediately. 

“Gorgeous,” Tim mutters, as if to himself. Jon shivers under the praise. Tim looks at him properly. “How has nobody ever touched you before?”

“I don’t know,” Jon says sheepishly. “I don’t really date much.”

One of Tim’s hands lands on Jon’s chest, then, the palm of his hand cupping the soft swell of one of his small breasts, and Jon takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Oh,” he says, as if surprised, “not there –”

He expects Tim to tweak one of his nipples, or suck one into his mouth, but instead Tim taps him on the thigh twice, which means _hold on for a second_. 

“You okay?” Jon asks. 

“Was that a real no?” 

Jon furrows his brows. “No? It was good.”

“I thought we weren’t going to do all that tonight,” Tim says. “We didn’t pick a safeword.”

“Oh,” Jon says. “I’m sorry, I thought it was going to be the standard one.”

Tim’s fingers, still ghosting the edge of his ribcage, pull away to tap on Jon’s bottom lip gently. “Do you _want_ this to be more, ah, like that? You saying no?”

Jon shrugs, although the motion is a little awkward because he’s trying not to move Tim’s finger on his face. “We don’t have to do that,” he mumbles against Tim’s skin. Tim moves his finger away to trace a line down his neck instead, to feel the words move through his throat. 

“It’s fine if you do,” Tim says. “I can roll with that. I just need to know when you say no whether you mean it or not. Basic safety, Jon.” 

The last part has a hint of gentle scolding to it. Jon looks away in embarrassment. “In that case yes,” he says. “I might not, but I’d like the possibility to be open.”

“Safeword?” 

“Calliope. Or red.”

Tim kisses his forehead. “Good boy. Ready?”

“You alright?” Jon asks. “I know that can be scary.”

Tim shrugs and gives him a smile. “No, it’s okay. It’s just better to check immediately than do something to hurt you accidentally.”

Jon smiles back at him. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“All good,” says Tim. The hand on Jon’s thigh starts moving up slow, slow, which is distracting.

“Ready,” says Jon. Tim looks at him, eyes hungry and deep and mostly pupil.

“Okay,” he agrees, and then he kisses Jon. The hand on his chest moves up, and the scene continues. 

Jon bites his tongue. Tim’s hand moves softly at first, and then more confidently. “You okay?” Tim asks, but it’s the same voice he’d used to tell him he didn’t want to take advantage of him. Genuine enough. Something barely restrained underneath it though. 

Jon squirms slightly, pulling his body away a little bit. “Yeah,” he says. His voice is insincere. 

Tim pauses, and then squeezes the soft swell of Jon’s chest. His fingers dig gently into the flesh he’s holding in his grasp. “Yeah?”

Jon tries to move his chest away, but Tim moves with him, and when Jon stills again Tim flicks one of his nipples with two fingers. “Good,” he says, “because I want to get these,” he grabs his other nipple between two fingers, “so sensitive you’re sobbing.”

Jon takes a shuddering breath at that. His body, despite not wanting Tim to keep touching him there, reacts, clenching around nothing as his cock throbs in his underwear. “Oh,” he says, which is all he can say before Tim’s moving forward, hot mouth closing around the stiff nipple he’d been playing with. 

“Oh,” Jon says again, hands going to Tim’s back hesitantly. The fabric of his binder makes a sound when his nails scrape over it. “That’s – that’s a lot,” he whines, and Tim takes that as a request to keep going. He adds teeth, and the next time Jon’s nails scrape over Tim’s skin, Tim’s teeth scrape over Jon’s nipple. 

It feels _electric_. Jon jolts. The tight ball of arousal in the pit of his stomach that’s been slowly sinking lower is starting to leak out from between his thighs. “Stop,” he whimpers, “it’s too much.”

Tim pulls away with a wet pop. His lips are slick and cherry red. “You’re so lovely, though,” he says. The tip of his tongue peeks out, and as if to make a point he gives Jon’s wet nipple a little lick. “And you taste so _good_.” 

The moan that comes out of his mouth, then, is probably a little exaggerated, but Jon flushes nevertheless. “Ah,” he squeaks, “um. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tim hurries to say. “We can do something else.”

Jon’s fingers hook themselves under the edge of Tim’s binder to feel the flex of the muscle there. “Okay,” he agrees. “That sounds good.”

Tim’s head moves, though, to the other side of his chest, and he sucks Jon’s other nipple into his mouth. Jon squeals, genuinely surprised, and Tim laughs against his skin before pulling away. “Sorry,” he says. “You just look so _good_.”

“Thank you,” says Jon. “So, uh – what now?”

Tim’s hands, broad and warm, move along the sides of his body, and finally settle over his hips. “Let’s get you out of these,” he says decisively. “D’you want help?”

Jon, who feels like he’s been flushed the entire evening, feels his cheeks heat up again. “Um,” he says. The sound is a little squeaky. That, too, is starting to feel like a trend.

“Here,” Tim says softly, “I’ll help. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” says Jon, which is all Tim needs to hook his fingers underneath the waistband of Jon’s skinny jeans, the belt to which is somewhere on the floor already. The button’s undone. He doesn’t need to undo the fly on these jeans, because they’re a little big on him, and Tim, slipping a little from his role, doesn’t bother undoing it, because he knows this. The fabric slides down his thighs to his knees, where they pause for a moment as Tim spots the dark, wet spot that Jon knows must take over the entire length of his slit, from his cock to below his hole, and makes a hungry noise. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “you’re so wet, baby.” 

“Mm,” says Jon. His thighs twitch, as if to close his legs, but Tim sticks a hand between them to keep them from closing. 

Jon expects him to touch, then, but instead Tim just _looks_ , long enough to make him start to feel a little insecure. “Is that okay?” he finally asks, voice low and timid. 

“Oh,” Tim says, “it’s _so_ good.”

Jon nods tightly, relieved but a little anxious, and Tim pulls his jeans all the way down to his ankles and then down over them. They slide onto the floor, although Jon isn’t sure where exactly, and Tim doesn’t bother to look either. Instead, he slides his hands up the sides of Jon’s legs, ankle to knee to thigh, and when they reach his hips the movement of them turns horizontal. 

“Alright?” he asks softly. His fingers meet each other over the center of Jon’s belly. 

“Yes,” Jon agrees. 

“Can I touch you?” Tim asks. Jon has a feeling that no matter what he says Tim’s going to do just that, so he takes his time squirming for a few seconds, as if he’s not entirely sure. Like he almost doesn’t know. 

“Yes,” he settles on. The shape of the word feels good in his mouth. 

“Good boy,” mumbles Tim, and then his hand, gentle and big, slides down until he can touch the jut of his cock through the fabric of his underwear, hard enough to be visible through it. “There you go,” he coos when Jon makes a little sound. “I got you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“Please,” Jon says, although he’s not sure what he’s asking for, exactly. Tim’s hand continues its journey over the slick fabric, firm enough to feel the shape of him, firm enough that Tim’s fingers settle over his opening with precision. 

“You don’t have to beg,” Tim says. His other hand goes to the waistband of his boxers. “I told you, baby. I got you.” 

Jon’s chest heaves with the anxious filling of his lungs, the exhale of what air he manages to get all the way into his lungs. The slick sound of his wet underwear detaching itself from his cunt makes Tim swear under his breath, which makes Jon make a soft sound, and this time Tim doesn’t pause with the underwear still around his knees. The article of clothing lands on the floor in one swift, decisive motion. 

“Tim,” Jon starts, but Tim shushes him. Two fingers circle his cock. Jon swallows his words. 

It’s good that he did, because Tim leans forward to kiss him, and as he does, two of his fingers slip inside Jon. Jon gasps into his mouth, and Tim takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into Jon’s mouth, and Jon, unsure of what else to do, gives it a hesitant, soft suck, like Tim’d done for him before. Tim groans, fingers crooking up to push against the sensitive tissue of his cock from the inside. Jon tries to speak again, but Tim’s free hand comes to rest over Jon’s jaw to keep him there instead. Jon gives up.

Tim’s fingers scissor him open with the gentle precision they always do. He taps the pads of them up, and Jon’s sensitive enough that it feels like a punch to the gut, even without any other contact to his cock except the brush of Tim’s palm against the underside, the very tip of it, and the slide is wet enough that Jon can hear it. 

He breaks the kiss eventually. Jon makes a confused sound, and Tim smiles down at him. “D’you want me to fuck you?” he asks softly. 

“I thought you were fucking me,” Jon mumbles. He clenches around Tim’s fingers for good measure, and Tim, as if anticipating it, spreads his fingers against it.

“I can get out my harness,” Tim says. “I have a lot of toys I can use to fill you right up.”

Jon, who feels plenty full already, keens. “Okay,” he says anyway. “Yes, okay.”

“Yeah?” asks Tim, and leans down to pepper Jon’s face with little kisses. “You want me to be your first?”

Jon nods, because he’s not sure what to say, and Tim kisses him again, aggressive and full of teeth this time. Jon tries to keep up, but every time he does Tim nips at his lip sharply, so eventually he just settles on allowing himself to be kissed, mouth slack and open, and Tim, losing himself a little bit, grinds against his own hand, presumably to give himself just a little bit of relief. Jon wants to smile. He manages not to. 

“Going to fill you up,” Tim mumbles when he finally pulls away. He’s still close enough that Jon can feel the words against his lips. “Want to see you stretched around my cock.”

Jon whines. His hips buck, and Tim, as if having forgotten that his fingers are still inside of him, moves his hand to fuck him with them for just a few seconds. “Sweet boy,” Tim says. “Gagging for it.”

Jon debates putting his hands over his face. He’s embarrassed enough that it feels natural, already, but he knows it drives Tim wild, too. Something in the action of it. Something he, for whatever reason, associates with innocence. Jon’s muscles trembling and clenching around Tim’s fingers or cock or tongue, hands over his eyes. Not right now, he decides. Maybe later.

“Yes,” he says instead. “Sorry. I just,” he spreads his legs slightly, “it feels good.”

“Don’t apologize,” says Tim, all scandalized. “I love that.”

Jon looks away. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure about what?” Tim asks, and then, “Jon,” when Jon doesn’t reply. 

“If it would feel good.”

“You didn’t,” Tim starts. Stops. “What do you mean?”

Jon squirms. “I’ve never.”

“You’ve never,” Tim’s free hand moves up to his face. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve never – what – you’ve never had anything inside you?”

Jon closes his eyes and then shakes his head slowly. On top of him he can hear the sound of Tim muttering under his breath. Some words he hears. Some of them he doesn’t. 

“Baby,” he says properly out loud. “Oh baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

“You told me that,” Jon says, and then smiles hesitantly. “Before.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, “that’s right. Give me a moment, sweetheart, let me get my harness.”

The sound of Tim’s fingers pulling out of Jon is slick. It’s also loud enough to make Jon flush with genuine embarrassment, but Tim’s distracted enough looking for his harness that he doesn’t even comment on it. Jon almost wishes that he had. Told him what a little slut he was for being so needy. Something about how he’d managed to stay so innocent and pure for so long, only to get so wet you could hear it from across the room at the first touch of another man. 

The harness is slung over the back of Tim’s desk chair, and it only takes him a few moments to secure it. He opens the nightstand drawer, then. It’s not where all of his toys are by any means, but they’d picked out a few, earlier, for Tim to pick from. Enough control, enough surprise. Equilibrium. Jon’s torn between looking and not looking. The anticipation of watching Tim rifle through the pile of them, not sure which one he’ll settle on versus the shock of only knowing which toy he picked when it’s spreading him open. 

By the time Tim asks him _ready?_ he’s already between Jon’s legs again. Jon nods, and Tim reaches between his thighs with one hand, slides his fingers into him easy as a hot knife into butter. It’s not really to prepare him any further, Jon knows. Tim gets his fingers wet and then he gives the toy he’s got secured to the harness a few loose strokes. 

“Yeah,” Jon says. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” says Tim. He gives Jon one of his sharp-gentle smiles. “Take a deep breath, baby.”

Jon does. When he looks down between his legs he can see a flash of purple, gradually fading into brighter pink, and he recognizes the toy a split second before the head of it slips into him. 

It’s not actually that it _slips_ in. Tim has one hand on the shaft of it, the other on Jon’s hip, and his own hips strain with the effort not to snap them forward and bury the toy into him in one thrust, all the way down to the knot. Usually he could take it, but usually they prepare for this one for longer, and with more fingers. This time Tim’s given him two fingers on purpose. This time it’s a stretch. 

“Oh,” Jon says. It’s a bit of a shock. “That’s big.”

“You’re doing great,” Tim coos. Another inch slides in, and Jon jolts around the intrusion. “Look at you. Taking me so well. Relax, sweetheart, just let me in.”

Jon bites his lip, and tries to relax. His thighs shake. The muscles of his stomach won’t stop fluttering no matter how badly he tries. It doesn’t hurt, but the stretch is mildly uncomfortable. It’s just how he likes it. A reminder of what he’s supposed to be, here – never had anything inside of himself. Sloppily fingered open by someone who cares, but not that much. Spread open around a cock too large for him. Jon whines low in his throat, and Tim grunts, and this time his hips to snap forward. 

Jon’s mouth opens in a pained wince, and Tim scrambles to get his hand on Jon’s cock, as if to make up for it. “Sorry,” he says, thumb stroking over the slick length of it, “sorry. Alright?”

“It’s just big,” Jon says through gritted teeth. “Maybe we should,” he pauses. Looks at Tim. Tim looks back, eyes hungry and hips trembling. Jon’s knees hooked over his shoulders. Jon hadn’t seen him take off his binder, but he’s naked now. His nipples are stiff in the cool air, red-brown and partly hidden by his chest hair. “Nevermind,” he says, and squirms a little. 

“No,” Tim says. His thumb slips and slides on Jon’s cock, but not deliberate enough to make Jon hiss. “No, no, what’s wrong?”

Jon evaluates the tilt of his head. The earnest look in his eyes. “Maybe we should stop,” Jon mumbles. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

“Oh,” Tim exhales, all sympathy, “it’s almost in, baby. Don’t be scared.”

“Oh,” says Jon. He clenches around the toy, just once, just to feel it, and then moans when it feels just as good as he thought it would. It is big. It fills him almost perfectly, at least for now. Soon, if Tim lets him get used to it, it’ll get easier for it to slide, muscles opening and relaxing around the thick intrusion, but for now it’s a struggle. “Are you sure?”

“I swear,” Tim says. “You’re just tight.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says. “I’m not doing it on purpose.” 

It’s true, but the next time Tim tries to thrust in deeper he clenches down around the toy as hard as he can, which means that try as he might the toy doesn’t budge. 

“Relax,” Tim says immediately. The hand on Jon’s hip moves to pet over his stomach in a circular, calming motion. “Breathe.”

“It hurts,” Jon mumbles. It doesn’t. It’s getting easier, actually, his body slowly but surely stretching to make room. He arches his back gently. Tim’s eyes immediately focus on his chest, which had been what he’d been looking for. Instead of bending down to close his mouth around one of his peaked nipples Tim hums. 

“Come sit in my lap,” he says. “It’ll be easier.”

Tim doesn’t wait for him to respond. When he moves backwards to sit down on the bed he pulls Jon with him by his hips, and Jon, with the toy still halfway inside of him, has no choice but to sit down in his lap. Tim bucks his hips up, and the motion with the help of gravity means that Jon sinks down on the toy several inches in one go. He makes a punched out noise, one that’s half shock, half surprise. Tim’s hands go onto his hips. His mouth goes on Jon’s nipple. 

“Um,” says Jon, hands landing in Tim’s hair, insecure and a little confused. Tim pushes his head into the touch and makes an encouraging noise against Jon’s nipple, teeth scraping against it, so Jon gathers some of his hair in a loose grasp. There’s not really much he can do other than that, because Tim’s hands on his hips pull him down with no regard for his input, hips moving slowly to keep the toy moving, and the suction of his mouth around his sensitive nipple is distracting enough that when one of Tim’s hands lets go of his hip and goes to give his cock a gentle little tug he jolts. The motion makes him sink the last few inches before the knot. An incoherent noise tears its way out of his chest. 

“Tim,” he moans, voice pitching up at the end, “Tim.”

Tim pulls away. “What?”

But Jon doesn’t know what he wanted to say at all. All he has to say is a helpless, whining “Tim,” and Tim, blessed Tim, shushes him sweetly. A finger wet with Jon’s own slick goes to his lips. 

“You’re fine,” he whispers. “You’re okay. Just relax.”

Jon nods, and Tim taps on his lips with the slick finger, and Jon, obedient and floating, now, opens his mouth eagerly to suck on it. “Sweet boy,” Tim murmurs. His other hand leaves Jon’s hip and tangles itself in Jon’s hair. “What a good boy.”

Jon whines softly. It comes out a little strange sounding around Tim’s finger, but Tim just hums thoughtfully. The hand in his hair travels down his body, tweaks a nipple on its way down but doesn’t linger. It slips between his legs, and then finds his hole where it’s stretched around the shaft of the toy, right above where the knot is. Tim makes a soft tutting sound at that. 

“You’ve still got a little bit left,” he says. “Come on, kitten. Move your hips.”

Jon tries to, but he feels heavy and clumsy and tired. He sags forward, arms closing around Tim’s shoulders, face pressing into the skin between his neck and his shoulder. His entire body trembles. Tim puts his hands on his hips, though, and then he moves his own hips up into Jon. 

For a while it’s nothing but the gentle, slow slide of the toy in and out of him. His muscles feel loose and pliable, opening around the toy further and further on each thrust, and Tim talks him through it all, voice sweet and gentle and reassuring right there by his ear. Jon allows himself to be moved, because he has no choice. When Tim’s fingers poke at his opening gently, softly, Jon doesn’t jolt. When Tim’s finger tip lodges itself into the space between him and the toy he only hisses a little bit in mild discomfort. 

“I think you’re ready,” Tim says, and bends his neck to kiss the shell of Jon’s ear. “Good boy. Taking it so well.”

Jon whines softly. He’s a trembling pile of something made entirely of jelly. Tim’s fingers spread him open, further, further, and then his other hand, the one still on his hip, gently guides him down and the knot sinks in. 

His eyes squeeze shut as his mouth opens in a silent scream. He can take the knot. He takes it all the time. It’s still a stretch, and it’s still an effort. Tim strokes over the skin of his trembling skin, and whispers into his ear, but the words don’t register, not over the rush of blood in the capillaries of Jon’s ears. The widest point of the knot stretches him open for what feels like forever, but can’t have been more than a few seconds, and then it pops in, and then Jon is completely impaled. 

“Tim,” he says, and his voice is very, very small. “Oh my god.”

“Big?” Tim asks, all sympathy. “You’re okay. That’s all, love.”

Jon nods tightly against his chest. His nails scrape into the skin of Tim’s back again. Without the binder in the way it feels soft. There’s fingers on his cock, then, gently pinching it between the pads of them, and then the motion of them jerking the hood of it backwards, and then forward again. Jon inhales, and then sighs, and then Tim stops teasing him, fingers picking up both speed and pressure, and instead of a sigh Jon’s what comes out of Jon’s mouth is a punched out whimper. 

“God,” Tim says, “you’re so tight, fuck – and so sensitive, too.” His fingers rub over the shaft of Jon’s cock as if to prove his words. Jon, predictable and easy, jerks and shudders in his lap at the touch, and Tim smiles. “Perfect,” he sighs. “God. You’re just perfect. Can’t believe nobody’s filled you up before. You take it so well. God. Look at you.”

Jon mewls. Tim’s hips start moving in little rolls that end as even smaller bucks of his hips. There’s nothing more for him to thrust into Jon, and he won’t be able to fuck him on the knot without more prep, but the motion jostles the toy inside of him anyway, the heavy round shape of the knot pressing against every sensitive, tender part of him. It’s good, and he can’t get there just from the stimulation, but Tim’s got his perfect, perfect fingers on his cock, too, working it with precise, perfect pressure, and it doesn’t take long for Jon’s chest to start heaving with the effort to suck enough air in. His thighs, trembling and weak, clench around Tim’s hand.

“Gonna come?” Tim asks. Jon clenches down again, and when Tim moves his hips effortlessly with just one hand to meet Tim’s he shudders. “I thought so,” Tim murmurs. “Sweet thing. It’s like you were made for my cock.” Jon doesn’t reply. “Were you?” Tim prompts.

Jon, chest heaving, grunts out a quiet “yes.”

It’s the only thing Tim needs. His hips buck up wildly, fingers speeding up on Jon’s cock, almost like he doesn’t even know what he’s doing at all, but the near-frictionless slide of those fingers is so perfect, so sweet that Jon comes, and Tim strokes the twitching length of his cock through it all, hips moving ever so slightly. 

“Good boy,” he says softly. Jon mewls. His body aches, now. Tim shushes him. “Give me a second.”

Jon, soft and floppy and pliant, knows that what’s going to happen next is Tim’s going to unhook the harness, and then he’s going to maneuver himself out of it. He’s going to leave the toy inside of Jon until Jon feels ready to take it out, and while he waits, he’s going to get himself off. It’s probably not going to take long. After that he’s going to try to carry Jon into the shower, where Jon’s going to sulk on the tile floor until Tim coaxes him into standing up. 

He pauses his thoughts there. For now he’s still in Tim’s lap, and Tim’s still fiddling with the straps of the harness. 

“Okay,” he says. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “Okay.”

Tim kisses his forehead, softly, sweetly. “Okay.”


End file.
